


The Path of Project Telum

by GayGrandpa



Series: JoJotron [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Stands (JoJo), Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Jonathan Joseph and Johnny are brothers, Medical Torture, Other misc. weird shuffling around of the Joestar family tree, if you thought johnny wasn't happy before he sure isn't now that he's in space, internalized ableism, semi-consensual body modification, the paladins aren't in this fic but they'll be there eventually, this au is so wildly niche i apologize in advance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 12:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15706935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayGrandpa/pseuds/GayGrandpa
Summary: Johnny Joestar did not expect to be the prisoner of a vast alien empire when he agreed to go with his brother and his friend from college on a research expedition. And he sure as hell didn't think that would end up with him having alien cyborg limbs. Or that the cyborg limbs would allow him to become one of the deadliest weapons in the galaxy.But nothing about space is predictable, is it?





	The Path of Project Telum

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to give me notes if I am lacking anything in my portrayal of Johnny's paraplegia. My goal is to make his day to day, his wants and his goals feel real, and input is always appreciated.

The last thing Johnny remembered before blacking out was the fight. The spaceship landed right next to the expedition site, thrusters blasting. He remembered the fear, remembers wheeling forward as the creatures set their sights on Jotaro, remembered being _useless_ as they pulled him from his chair, Joseph and Jotaro yelling as he was tossed into the ship like a ragdoll, the breath pounding out of his lungs. Harsh voices murmured unintelligible phrases, melting into words he understood all too well, _prisoner_ and _too weak_. Johnny had tried to struggle, to show them he wasn't something to underestimate, but a heavy object hit the back of his skull and his vision went dark.

 

Johnny woke up on the floor of a small cell, aching everywhere he could still feel pain. Slowly, he pushed his torso off the ground, looking around the space. Dark. Purple. Sparsely decorated, with the only noticeable objects in the room being a toilet and a mat on the ground, which he was decidedly not laying on. A translucent purple wall indicated the “front” of the cell, giving him a view of a hallway lined with other prisoners. Mostly older, frail aliens, and one or two amputees who looked dejected beyond belief.

 

 _Great. So even captured by goddamn aliens I'm the “worthless cripple”_. Johnny pulled himself closer to the wall, surveying the hallway more closely. One heavily armored (possibly robotic) guard wandering down the passageway, weapon held at the ready. Most prisoners kept their eyes down, except for the few who stared forward with a blank look in their eyes. None of the cells seemed to have any discernible doorway or even a slot for food, meaning they were either starved or the wall’s entrances were well-hidden. The guard stopped at Johnny’s cell, surveying him before pounding the weapon against the wall, causing a shock that sent Johnny recoiling back.

 

“Away from the wall, prisoner.” The guard’s voice was distinctly robotic, confirming Johnny’s earlier suspicions. It then turned back to its route, scanning the cells of the other prisoners for infractions. Johnny waited until the guard was further down the hall before creeping back towards the wall, watching for any information that could yield important. Only a few more sets of rounds and patrols. Johnny made a point of backing up when he noticed them approaching.

 

The prisoners were fed 54 rounds later, a small panel of the wall dematerializing so the guard could slide a plate of tasteless mush through. No utensils, just a plate of bland slop. The plate itself even vanished after the food had been cleared off of it, rendering it useless as a tool of escape. Johnny tried to preoccupy himself after the meal, to gain some semblance of understanding about his environment. He even attempted to reconfigure a bowel schedule without any true sense of timing. It became monotonous quickly. The lighting never changed. The only sign of time passing was the rounds, continuous cycles of identical robot guards, and the quiet whimpering of some of the other prisoners. He passed out again somewhere around the 237th round, hoping that maybe his dreams would have some kind of variance.

 

 **_The ship was spiralling. He had been so close to the finish line, another win for the infamous Joekid. But he had been cocky, had bragged to a competitor that he could get anything he wanted, took the guy’s tickets to the movies as “payment for being allowed in the presence of THE Joekid”. He did something stupid and the guy made him pay for it by firing contraband weapons from his ship during the race. Johnny wasn't expecting it, didn't know to dodge, ended up crashing down onto the track with shrapnel lodged in his spine. Pain everywhere except his legs,_ ** **_why not his legs?_ ** **_His screams over the automated victory bells and cop sirens in the distance. Then it faded to black._ **

 

Johnny spent who knows how many days in the monotony of his cell, even trying to talk to other prisoners before realizing half of them were too beaten down to reply and the other half gave one-word sentences at most. At least he figured out that things were somehow being translated, considering it’s unlikely that every single alien species would speak English. He began to fill his time with whatever exercises he could manage with his upper body, and the stretches and movements he learned for his legs, cursing the absence of his physical therapy instruments, and ending up sore and exhausted enough to have a dreamless sleep. He had just finished his closest approximation to sit-ups when a guard he had never seen before (obvious by the fact that he seemed to be a living being in armor instead of a sentry) strolled down the hall, stopping in front of the cell of a small prisoner with cracked blue skin and an arm marred by what seemed to be green scar tissue.

 

“Prisoner BX598-3711. You have been selected for use by the Druids. Keep still as we remove you from your cell and the guards will continue to let you live.” The guard glanced lazily down at a glowing screen as he gestured for 2 robotic guards to stand at the entrance to the cell. With a flick of the new guard’s wrist, the cell door appeared, and the small alien was maneuvered out of the cell, trembling. Once the prisoner was secured in shackles by the robot guards, the cell’s door was dematerialized and the new guard turned smartly on his heel, gesturing the other two to start walking. Johnny watched as they pulled the alien into a side hallway, footsteps fading into the distance. His eyes stayed fixed on the hallway for what seemed like ages until a familiar shock raced through Johnny’s body, sending him away from the wall.

 

“Away from the wall, prisoner.” The robotic guard shifted his weapon back into position, continuing his rounds as Johnny tried to regain composure on the ground. Something new had broken the monotony. Only time would tell if this something could be his saving grace.  


 

* * *

  


Johnny fell asleep 8 times before the prisoner taken to the “druids” was taken back to their cell. Johnny had been in the middle of a workout session when the footsteps came down the hall, straining to hear more. He could immediately discern a difference in the prisoner’s gait, even before they were halfway down the hallway. Their movements were jittery and quick, as if they were an overwound toy. As they got closer, Johnny noticed something else; the prisoner had a new arm. Where before, the prisoner's hand had hung limply at their side, they were now moving around a robotic limb with ease, fingers fluttering nervously, tapping out a pattern on their flesh arm. Johnny’s eyes fixated on the limb, noticing how seamlessly the alien maneuvered each mechanism, seemingly without strain. As the prisoner passed, they locked eyes with Johnny, scared, but undeniably alive for the first time since Johnny had been imprisoned. The robotic guard on the prisoner’s left tapped its arm, activating an opening the cell while the guard on the right pushed the prisoner in.

 

“You have 3 Quintents to heal. You will then be sent to the Senfamian work camp. If you prove troublesome, you will be sent to the arena to die in battle. Do you comprehend?” The left guard rattled off the information, waiting until the prisoner nodded weakly to back out of the cell.

 

Johnny waited until the guards were out of sight, checking around for any patrols before pulling himself over to the wall.

“Hey!” Johnny did his best to keep the volume of his voice down while still loud enough to grab the other prisoner’s attention. The other prisoner startled, shifting slightly to face Johnny. They seemed nervous as they locked eyes with the human, fingers twiddling.

 

“What is it?” Their voice was small, twinged with an apprehension he could remember hearing in their voice the first time this particular alien had blown off conversation.

 

“The arm. Who did that?” Johnny gestured to the new limb, maintaining eye contact that seemed to make the small prisoner even more uneasy.

 

“T-the Druids.” The alien clutched their new arm closely to their body.

 

“How do you move it? Mechanics? Neural link?” Johnny pressed closer to the wall.

 

“I don't know, it just moves like it used to!” The fingers on the robotic arm twitch as if to demonstrate. “I just...move it like an arm.”

 

Johnny frowned, leaning back slightly.

“And they just gave it to you?”

 

The alien seemed to take offense at that, baring blunt silver teeth at Johnny. “You think I wanted this? To be perverted from the form I was born with so I would be of use in a Galra work camp? You must be joking.”

 

“And you must be an idiot not to see the opportunity here. You have full mobility to escape.” Johnny hissed back, stiffening indignantly. “I would give anything to have my lower body back.”

 

“I’m sure the Galra will take full advantage of that.” The alien snarled, turning their back on Johnny, leaving him to stew in his own quiet anger. Johnny wished he could pace, could relieve the tension in the air without putting more strain on his already tired arms. Instead he watched as the small alien rocked itself to sleep, watching the glow of their new arm until his own consciousness faded to black.

 

* * *

 

  
_Things were different when he was younger. He knew early that he was adopted, father made that clear, but that never stopped anyone from insisting he was part of the family. Where George was sometimes overwhelming, constantly pushing for Johnny to be amazing, to make him proud, Jonathan coddled him. His oldest brother was always proudly placing shitty childhood drawings on the fridge, exclaiming how big and strong Johnny had gotten, beaming like he was made of goddamn sunshine. Joseph teased and pushed, but he was loving all the same. Johnny couldn’t hate them, even when the crushing expectations to live up to Jonathan and the irritating encouragement of Joseph’s wildness left him feeling like a disappointment in comparison. Honestly, it was harder to compare himself to Joseph than Jonathan, to follow in his footsteps. It’s hard to be pushed to follow perfection, but it’s much more frustrating to have every attempt at rebellion crushed while your brother/nephew is given free reign. Being sent to military school while Joseph made friends with random street kids cemented the resentment. On the upside, the military school was scouted by the Galaxy Garrison, looking for potential cadets. He aced the simulator, and it helped him find something he truly excelled at: piloting. He was the prodigy of the aerospace program, a true ‘ace pilot’. And away from father’s scrutinizing eye he channelled his excellence into an outlet that would give him the sense of accomplishment he craved. Racing was exhilarating, it was dangerous, it was somewhat illegal and it was goddamn amazing. He built a ship from junk in the scrapyard, an old hauler crafted into his pride and joy. Slow Dancer had been a longshot in her first race, but Johnny had piloted her to 5th place, beating out more experienced racers handily. From there, his fame as Joekid grew exponentially, the newbie racer who decimated the competition with a steely drive. The inflation of his ego let him forget about his feelings of letting the family down, focusing on the only thing that mattered: winning. Not only was he the best pilot in his class, but the most infamous young racer on the circuit. Life was good._

 

_The crash ruined all of that. He was out for weeks while his family flew in to take control. The surgeons informed his father that he had injured his spine racing, and Slow Dancer was scrapped. He was pulled from the Garrison, confined to bed rest. Racing was out of the option. They were back to square one, with a few terrifying changes. George no longer pushed, only worked to keep Johnny from any dangers, real or perceived. He was back in the cage, now adorned with a heavy padlock. Jonathan looked at him with pity, sunshine smiles warped by sad eyes and insulting attempts to “get Johnny back out there!” And Joseph...he was off at college, awkward when he visited and trying to joke like nothing had changed. Johnny never felt more pathetic than when his family tried too hard to be “normal” towards him, while at the same time treating him like some kind of fragile fucking fabergé egg. Every single intrusive thought from childhood was amplified to a disgusting degree. Johnny used the remainder of his prize money from his races to try and fix this hellscape of a situation, but nothing worked. No technology, no experimental surgeries, no therapy. He maintained his muscles with the abject hope that something might help. The frenzied need to walk ebbed into a more depressing dream of being able to control his own bowel movements and spend a week without seeing a doctor. Hospitals became more familiar than his dorm room at the Garrison, or even the childhood room George insisted he move back into. Back with an empty bank account and an even more overbearing father, he resigned himself to his uselessness. Nothing would fix this. Jonathan had been the ideal, what everyone wanted him to be. Joseph, training in the aerospace program, had what Johnny wanted for himself. Neither were attainable now. Johnny Joestar was a dead end._

  


* * *

  


He started waiting by the glass wall when he woke up, waiting for the guards to approach before making his request.

 

“I want to see the Druids.”

 

They ignored him the first few times, simply administering the now-familiar shock to keep Johnny away from the wall. When he persisted, they started to take notice. The alien with the cracked blue skin was long gone before he was able to bother them enough that a flesh and blood supervisor was called in to confront him.

 

“Prisoner HU599-1437. I have been informed that you have been attempting to make demands to the sentries. It is unsettling the other prisoners.” The guard observed Johnny cooly, like he was a caterpillar in his garden.

 

“Take me to the Druids.” Johnny stared back with determination, not about to give this guard the satisfaction of seeing him crack. The guard raised an eyebrow at his request, leaning down slightly to look closer at Johnny. Johnny allowed himself to be scrutinized, unflinching in his resolve.

 

“It is unusual that someone asks to be offered to the Druids. It is not pleasant. Especially for someone of your...situation.” He shot a look at Johnny’s legs. “You would not be receiving a kindness if your request was allowed.”

 

“That doesn't matter. I saw what they can do.” Johnny grit his teeth, fingers clenching tightly in his tunic.

 

“Human, what is your goal?” The guard’s question surprised Johnny, and they locked eyes again. There was no discernable expression on the guard’s face, which Johnny tried not to let unsettle him.

 

“I want my body to work again.” His voice came out firmer than he expected, confident.

 

“Affirmative.” The guard stood back up, turning to the hallway and gesturing at the sentries. “Bring the prisoner to the Druids. Tell them that anything goes, as long as the creature has full functionality. I'm sure Cioccolata will jump at the opportunity to experiment.” As the guard walked out of sight, the sentries opened the cell. Johnny didn’t struggle as they dragged him by his arms in the opposite direction, didn’t yell in fright while the other prisoners watched him in abject terror. He simply let himself be hauled like a sack of feed towards an uncertain hope.

 

* * *

  


The guard was correct in saying that the druids were not kind. Johnny was tossed roughly by the sentries onto the floor of the druids’ chambers, wincing as he tried and failed to catch himself. His shoulder hit the ground with an uncomfortable pop as it shifted out of place. He yelped indignantly at the impact, not relishing the idea of having to jostle his own arm back into place. The sentries showed no response to his complaint, turning and leaving Johnny to his fate. He pulled himself up from the ground, surveying his surroundings. More stark purple walls, although these seemed to be infinitely more sterile than the ones in the cells. Similarly jarring was the figure in the corner that Johnny failed to notice until it turned around, almost floating towards the human. It was humanoid, large and lanky, face hidden by a mask and body swathed in robes. Johnny tried to put on a brave face as the foreign creature inspected him, reaching out a spindly hand and surveying his limbs, before lifting him up onto a purple slab.

 

“Spinal damage. Full lower paralysis, muscles are moderately atrophic. Subject seems to have actively made attempts to slow the degradation process, although the connections will need major work. The rest of the body is in good condition, if small.” The figure spoke to a small machine, which appeared to be beeping and taking notes. Johnny scowled a bit under the scrutiny, annoyed that the thing didn't address him directly.

 

“If you want more details, I can talk-” Johnny was interrupted by a sharp jolt of pain throughout his body, causing spasms throughout his system.

 

“Don't.” The figure hissed. “Your input will be irrelevant from henceforth.” Another figure appeared in the doorway, movements more fluid.

 

“Come now, Melone, let it sing for us.” The new creature was similarly lanky, intimidating in its size, and wearing the same flowing robes. Unsettlingly, this creature was not wearing a mask, and smiled in a way that shook Johnny to his bones.

 

“Cioccolata, this is not advisa-"

 

The new figure, Cioccolata, whipped around towards Melone as they spoke.

“You do not tell me what to do.” Cioccolata’s voice pitched darkly down, still with a smile on its face. “This is my patient to play with.” It clicked in Johnny’s head that the guard had said Cioccolata was one of the Druids. The revelation was less than comforting.

 

The other druid narrowed their eyes at Cioccolata, but stepped back from Johnny.

“The Glyph has recorded vitals and initial notes. The thing won't feel much below its waist, so you're better off sticking to the upper body for your...fun.”

 

“Noted. You are dismissed.” Cioccolata waved a hand in the air, turning back towards Johnny. “Where were we, little one?”

 

Johnny scoffed at the patronizing nickname, trying to sit up slightly on the table. He recieved received a shock for this insolence.

 

“Now, now. I will expect compliance from you, HU599-1437. Too much disobedience and I'll have to dispose of you.” Cioccolata traced a hand down Johnny's back, making the human shudder, even if he didn't dare move. “And that would be a pity. You humans are so...moldable.” Cioccolata smiled wider, hand moving to pull harshly at Johnny’s hair, causing Johnny to yelp. “Tell me, HU599-1437, why did you volunteer yourself?”

 

Johnny's answer came through gritted teeth, trying to work against the pain and pressure radiating through his scalp.

“I want my body to work again.”

 

Cioccolata tugged again, dissatisfied with the answer.

“Be more specific.”

 

“Fuck-” Johnny hissed, tears welling in the corners of his eyes at the burn. “I want to walk. I want to be able to feel when I have to shit. I want to be looked at like a capable fucking person.”

 

“Interesting.” Cioccolata released Johnny's hair, letting his head fall to the table with a thud. “What are you willing to do for this?”

 

“Anything.” Johnny rasped, head swimming with the sudden impact.

 

“Good.” Cioccolata smiled wider, his face contorting grotesquely. “We’re going to have fun, HU599-1437.” The druid flicked his wrist and spasms of pain ripped through Johnny's body until he screamed his voice raw. His pain would not abate for a very long time.

 

* * *

 

  
Johnny learned that there was a “purpose” to his torture. The shocks stimulated his muscles, the submersion in fluid that filled his lungs was called a “diluted quintessence bath", and it knit together and strengthened frayed nerve endings. Unfortunately, the other “purpose" seemed to be to _amuse_ Cioccolata. Operations were performed without any kind of anesthetic, Johnny simply strapped down as Cioccolata cut him open and _inspected_ , fiddled with the inner workings of Johnny’s body until he got results. He was kept awake as skin was flayed from his body, tested to see how long he could survive without oxygen, left with his ribs shattered into pieces as Cioccolata examined his bone density. Johnny lost count of how many times the wound on his spine was re-opened, how often he was left open and vulnerable to Cioccolata's probing. There wasn't a point in keeping track of the new scars, either, the points of entry where he became a living textbook on human anatomy. All of this before any initial progress with Johnny’s mobility. The only sign of improvement were consistent spasms in his legs, which didn't offer a multitude of hope. It wasn't until the druid named Melone returned that Cioccolata seemed to formulate a plan beyond hurting Johnny.

 

Johnny was on the table when Melone ghosted into the room, splayed out under the knife. Cioccolata paid little attention to the other druid, continuing to inspect the damage to Johnny’s spinal cord.

“It’s interesting,” Cioccolata spoke, although whether to Melone, Johnny or himself was unclear, “the human’s spine was severely damaged around the lower thoracic and upper lumbar regions, his muscles have atrophied with the lack of constant stimulation, his dead nerves have impeded his functioning, but he still lives. Our tenacious little project struggles so hard to be alive. All because of one accident.”

Melone showed no reaction to the ramblings, setting a package down onto the slab by Cioccolata.

 

“Here are the parts. They've been formatted based on the human’s biospecs, and you have replacements for all of the necessary damaged areas. And more, should you feel the need to...play.” The quieter druid shot a look at Johnny on the table, clicking in distaste. “You truly waste it, marring it like that. It’s been over a movement and still no change. Perhaps I could-"

 

“You will not take HU599-1437 from me, Melone.” Cioccolata cut the other druid off, reaching over to view the contents of the package. “I thought we agreed that you could have Secco while I worked.”

 

“Secco is too attached to you for me to use as a proper host.” Melone sounded almost huffy, and Johnny could almost picture a scrunched up face behind the mask. “And the High Priestess tires of your fiddling. Either put the thing to use or dispose of it.” Cioccolata rolled his eyes at the command, placing the contents of the package onto the slab. Mechanical limbs, and something that looked like a metallic spine.

 

“Fine. I will begin the repairs. And Melone?” Cioccolata turned slightly to the other druid. “Use Secco however you would like. It’s no longer his place to protest.”

 

Melone seemed satisfied by that, leaving Cioccolata to his work. The druid ran his spindly fingers over the notches of the prosthetic spine, inspecting the incision in Johnny’s back. Johnny himself kept still, knowing full well that movement and speech merited punishment.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day, HU599-1437. We’re going to make you function.”

 

Johnny glanced over his shoulder at the open wound, a mix of hope and dread settling in his stomach. There would be progress, even if it was on Cioccolata’s terms.

  


* * *

  


He didn't have time to prepare himself. The procedure was performed without Johnny even having time to go back to his small cell, instead hooked up to various tubes and bags that kept his fluids at the proper levels. Johnny was kept awake as the surgery was performed. Cioccolata hummed as he worked, murmuring to the machine Melone had called a Glyph, providing the sole soundtrack to Johnny's torture. He felt every single incision, every breakage of bone, every painful fusing of a nerve to the new robotic core. There were moments where his whole world was suffering, unable to escape through dormancy. His body was a new type of prison, something that housed his waves of visceral agony. The quintessence baths kept him strong enough to stay awake, even as mechanical dendrites attached to his spinal cord, usurping the natural creations of his body. Everything felt _wrong_ , utterly foreign, invasive to an extreme. Still, Johnny kept quiet as he could, biting back curses until they were quiet whimpers. He wouldn't give Cioccolata the pleasure of hearing him scream anymore. His eyes stayed fixed forward, only catching periphery glimpses of Cioccolata’s hands covered in his blood, chunks of his body being thrown onto a nearby slab, rendered useless and alien. (Hah.) The fucker looked like he was having the time of his life. Johnny’s thoughts turned to the fantasy of ripping the druid apart piece by piece, until the pain made it too hard to focus on anything but the pressure carving into his body. For a second, he thought of home, of how much he wanted to see his brothers. Brothers who might consider him a monster for selling himself to these creatures. Brothers whose smiles would fall at the sight of him, replaced with the same worry that kept him remote for two years. Thoughts became more distant until he felt himself being tugged up, hauled into a now-familiar healing pod. Then, blissful nothingness.

 

* * *

  
  
As usual, he fell to the floor when the pod opened. Galra healing pods were designed for people who could control their lower bodies enough to keep themselves upright, a luxury Johnny’s body still did not afford him.

 

Unlike usual, he only was able to stick out one hand to catch himself. His right arm, not balanced to take the entire impact of the fall, buckled as Johnny tumbled onto the ground. He swore, staring over at his left side to try and see why it didn't respond.

 

Nothing.

There was nothing after his shoulder but a stump encircled by some sort of robotic clasp that seemed like something larger should fit into it.

 

“ _FUCK_ .” Johnny screamed, struggling to get upright, trying to get a good look at the stump. They had taken it, one of the only things that still worked. Not only was he still unable to stand, but one of his two remaining functional limbs was completely gone. “ _THIS WAS NOT THE DEAL_.”

 

A sentry beeped on at the sound of Johnny’s voice, clamping down on Johnny’s working arm and starting to drag him back towards his isolated experimentation cell. This time, Johnny did not go quietly. He thrashed against the metal vice, not caring if the edges cut into his skin, screaming loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear. “ _YOU FUCKING LIARS! THIS WAS NOT THE DEAL_!” Panic clouded his vision, the pain of his wrist irrelevant compared to the need to escape, but nothing was goddamn working. Johnny was still fighting as the sentry threw him behind the barrier of his cell, activating the translucent purple wall once he was safely beyond the threshold. It then began to play a voice clip, loud enough to overlap Johnny’s howls.

 

**_{Tell me, HU599-1437, why did you volunteer yourself?}_ **

 

Johnny heard his own voice reply, strained and foreign sounding, coming from the sentry’s speakers.

 

**_{I want my body to work again.}_ **

 

There was a small pause and the sound of movement before Cioccolata’s voice came through again, terrifyingly calm.

 

**_{Be more specific}_ **

 

 **_{Fuck-}_ ** A hiss of pain, a phantom tingling at the base of Johnny’s scalp. **_{I want to walk. I want to be able to feel when I have to shit. I want to be looked at like a capable fucking person.}_ **

 

 **_{Interesting.}_ ** A nauseating thud of flesh against metal. **_{What are you willing to do for this?}_ **

 

 **_{Anything.}_ ** The sentry clicked its speakers off after Johnny’s last reply, dropping a limp prosthetic arm at his feet and wheeling away. Johnny was left with the echoes of his own voice ringing in his ears. _Anything_ . This was a part of _anything_. He looked down at his legs, blinking when he saw dull metal instead of the standard-issue black bodysuit. Johnny flicked the prosthetic, listening to the dull twang. These, too. Goddamn robot legs that don’t even hold him up. His hand shook next to the metal, fist clenching and unclenching. He grabbed the prosthetic arm, slotting it into place. Nothing. No movement. Just another dead limb.

 

_This is it. You gave up everything. No one’s coming back for you. Hostile aliens abducted you from your family, and you, you fucking idiot, trusted them to make you better. You’re never going to see the people you love again. Joseph and Jotaro are probably either dead, or somewhere worse off than you, wishing they were dead. You condemned them the second you got on that fucking ship. Liability. Fuck-up. Idiot._

Johnny didn’t feel the tears hit his thigh. They slid off the metal and pooled on the floor, unnoticed.

_The last thing you told Jonathan was that you didn’t need his fucking help. You didn’t tell him you loved him when you left. You didn’t tell Joseph after a fucking month on the ship. You didn’t tell dad for over 5 years. Fuck, even Jotaro tried to save you from the aliens. They were family. And this is how you repay them?_

Johnny curled into a ball, shivers wracking his body as he sobbed openly.

 _Useless, useless, useless. You’re never going to see them again. This is your fucking life. Get used to it. You’re not Joekid anymore. You’re not anyone’s favorite son. You have nothing and no one. You_ _are_ _nothing and no one._

Johnny stilled as his body gave way to exhaustion.

_You have nothing left to lose._

**Author's Note:**

> More to be found at https://jojos-voltron-au.tumblr.com/


End file.
